Punkie Mokie
by PrincessChaos
Summary: [OneShot]Seto Kaiba never was much of a fan of punks and ironically his little brother Mokuba turned into one. Now Kaiba is constantly tortured by his little brother’s taste of music. He just knew he would crack one of these days...


Author's Note:

Hello! Welcome to my new one-shot! This idea came to me when I drew a pic of Mokuba when he was older. He happened to come out looking like a punk and he does sort of look like a punk with that hair of his, even when he was younger. And so I pondered, how would Kaiba react to the constant loud music. The result: This! Enjoy!

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**Info:** This story is told from Seto Kaiba's POV. (Point of view)

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**Warning:** Kaiba and Mokuba are somewhat OOC. (Out of character)

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**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Yu-Gi-Oh! All I own is this story's plot.

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**Quote of the day:** "The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese." – Unknown.

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_Seto Kaiba never was much of a fan of punks and ironically his little brother Mokuba turned into one. Now Kaiba is constantly tortured by his little brother's taste of music. He just knew he would crack one of these days…_

**Punkie Mokie**

_By: PrincessChaos

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**One-Shot

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**XxXxXxX**

**Domino City, Japan: Kaiba Manor**

**6:32 p.m.**

**XxXxXxX**

I narrowed my eyes in frustration as music echoed throughout the large manor. What the hell was up with Mokuba and loud music? Especially _that_ kind of music: Punk. He could at least lower the damn volume! He couldn't believe his brother's generation thought _this_ junk was music. It was trash. Trash! He couldn't listen to classics, such as Mozart or Beethoven—now _that_ was music. I cursed under my breath and got up to shut my office door. Maybe that will muffle out the music—it didn't work. The music was still loud and clear as ever. I gritted my teeth in annoyance, but still did nothing more then as to try and continue to work.

The clock on my wall ticked with each passing second, frustrating me even more than I already was. The music even started to sound as if it had gotten louder. I clenched my fist and felt something snap in my hand—the pencil. Damn it.

The clock continued to tick and tock.

The music continued to pound loudly.

I tried to work, but I couldn't focus.

The music suddenly flared even _louder_ causing a frame on the wall to shatter. I was starting to regret buying that damn loud stereo system for his birthday. Sure, I could _just_ get up and _tell_ Mokuba to turn the volume _down_ and he would too—but after a few minutes it would flare up _again_. So I eventually gave up constantly telling him.

Maybe I could get sound proof walls installed.

The clock ticked once more, and I growled—the clock was getting on my nerves as well. Was it so hard to get peace and quiet around here? And couldn't my little brother comprehend that maybe the music was _too_ loud? Why was the world against me? What have I done to be tortured so horrendously? So many damn questions and yet there was no answer to any of them. I let out an irritated sigh—Mokuba was going to kill me one of these days! Hell, he almost gave me a heart attack when I found out he had turned into a punk! With that horrendous sense in fashion! I gagged as a mental picture of him popped into my head. Where had I gone wrong? Where? Was it because I sent him to a _public_ school? Maybe I should have sent him to a _private_ one? Or maybe I should have had him _home_ schooled? GAH! Too late for that! Damn, I screwed up big time. This was my fault—or was it? Wait a minute, why am I talking to myself?

I growled and rubbed my temples. I think I feel a migraine coming on. This _punk_ was going to send me to my grave, if not today, in the near future. _Maybe_ I should just tell Mokuba to turn the volume again, like I always do or _maybe_ I could demolish that blasted stereo system and tell him it was an _accident_. God, I need to stop talking to myself! This is insane! I'm going insane! Mokuba was driving me insane! Punk was driving me insane!

I give up. I couldn't take it any longer. I bent down and pulled my drawer open and took out the screwdriver I held there. I was after all a man who worked with electronics often so I had to have some tools near by when needed. I was arguing if I should use the screwdriver or the wrench, maybe even the hammer. Screwdriver it was. I stood up and left my office and made my way towards Mokuba's room. I _was_ going to get peace and quiet! He _needed_ to respect me and my wishes! I'm his older brother; therefore he had to _obey_ me!

That stereo system is going _down_!

Am I crazy? No, I'm just a man who wants some solitude to work, but of course cannot possibly have it thanks to one thing and one thing only. Music. Music that was coming from the _stereo system_ in Mokuba's room. The stereo system, that torments me endlessly every waking second of Mokuba's life. It has tormented me for months and shall continue to do so, if I do _not_ do something about it. I continued to make my way towards Mokuba's room; surprisingly I felt a tug at the corner of my mouth turn upwards to a smirk. I twirled the screwdriver in my hand. Oh, this was just grand. I think I have gone somewhat insane—what don't look at me like that! You would be the same way if you had to be endured such torture daily _and_ nightly! But that shall change. Very soon—if my aim isn't off.

The music got louder with each step I took. The floors shook and the walls creak with each lyric. I could just see the sleek black stereo system I spent a fortune on, maybe I shouldn't do it, it's not worth it. Something fell once more and crashed—oh screw it. It's worth it! Besides, my aspirins were running low. Suddenly I heard loud singing—oh no don't tell me.

Mokuba was singing? No. No. No! NO! Mokuba could not be singing! God, that was horrible. He should just stick to doodling. I finally reached his bedroom. Mokuba _was_ singing and I just stared at him bewildered.

There he was standing and shaking his long ebony hair, yet it was shorter than when he was younger. He had a rolled up paper in his hand and was using that as what seemed to be a microphone. Damn, where's my camera. I could use this as blackmail, after all he did blackmail me often when he was younger and still does—wait, why was I hear again?

Ah yes, the stereo system.

Also known as the hell maker—noisy box.

I felt the screwdriver in my hand, which was going to be lodged into it—very soon. Mokuba didn't even see me walk into his room and make my way towards the hell maker. I fiddled with the screwdriver in my hand. My trusty little weapon meet Mr. Noise box. Yes, I didn't have my caffeine today. This is what happens when I don't have my coffee. Lovely, eh?

I rammed the screwdriver into the system and sparks flew. The music suddenly started dying as well. That was music to _my_ ears. Mokuba stopped singing and turned his attention to see what the hell was going on.

"S-Seto?" he stuttered as he stared at his sparking stereo system aghast. He had a 'you-killed-my-baby' look on his face as he directed his stare to me; his mouth was agape as if he was trying to figure out what to say.

"You should really read more often," I suggested pointing to the paper I his hand, "Music can drive you mad." I felt a psychotic grin slowly appear on my face. He nodded numbly his blue-gray eyes wide. Wow, my little brother, the teen, speechless? I'm amazed. Now I have seen everything.

"B-But you didn't have to kill Shelby!" Mokuba shouted.

Shelby? Who the—oh no, don't tell me. He named the freaking stereo system! Why did I even buy that thing?

"Mokuba, you need to get out more. Socialize," I stated as I pulled out the screwdriver from his now dead, Shelby. I inwardly shuddered. Who the hell named an inanimate object? Ah yes, my brother. Where did I go wrong?

"That's why I go to school, Seto. To _socialize_," he said moving his fingers up and down mockingly at the word socialize. He was not mocking me! How dare he?

I glared at him, "Mokuba…" I trailed off threateningly.

"Yes, sweet brother of mine?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he made his way towards me. What was he trying to pull? You would think he would start ranting and raging at me for killing his _Shelby_, but instead…

"What are you up to?" I asked perking an eyebrow, suspiciously.

He scowled, "Why is that every time I try to act nicely to you, you either think I am up to something—"

"Or want something," I stated, folding my arms across my chest.

"Whatever," he said brushing it off, "I'm just trying to be nice to my hard working, respectable, role model brother of mine. I am so lucky to be the younger brother of Seto Kaiba, aren't I?"

Is it me or is Mokuba being very freakishly nice? Teenagers are evil, conniving leeches—and Mokuba was proving this theory was correct. I took a step back.

"I have a screwdriver and I am not afraid to use it!" I yelled, holding up the screwdriver, defensively. He stopped approaching me instantly afterwards—thought so.

He ran a hand through his ebony hair smoothly. Smug little punk—should I be proud?

"Eesh Seto, chill out. I'm just trying to be nice," Mokuba said smirking. Chill out? Chill out? CHILL OUT? And he's trying to be nice. Keyword: Trying. Trying my foot, he's up to something. Am I possibly being paranoid over this matter?

Possibly—yes.

You would be doing the same thing if you knew Mokuba like I did. Ever since he had turned seventeen and had converted into punk-ism. Yes punk-ism. Punk-ism was nothing like Buddhism or any other religious ethnicity. It was just—just punk. Gee, I'm starting to sound like the mutt. I think my brain cells fried along with _Shelby_. Damn.

Mokuba had given me a near heart attack when I had found out he had turned into one. I remember I had been typing on my laptop, when he had walked in—hair cut up to his shoulders now and perhaps even dyed a darker shade of black, chains on his baggy pants. He was wearing black. All black. His ears were now pierced with many earrings. He had also gotten his tongue pierced as well and he had headphones on his head. The definition of punk was Mokuba. And I had to blink, pinch, and poke myself. I had fainted. I, Seto Kaiba, had fainted. Call the press! The paparazzi! The media! An ambulance! I had been in utter shock and was lucky I hadn't dropped dead at the moment! This child had wanted to kill me right on the spot! And to think he thought it would have been as simple as he had planned: To waltz in and say 'Hey Seto, I turned punk, now I got to go.'

Shoot me.

"Earth to Seto!" a voice shouted, as a hand was waved in front of my face. I shook my head. What the hell?

"Huh?" I asked, utterly confused.

"You blanked out on me," he stated, crossing his arms as he took a step back, "You okay or have you finally lost all your senses?"

I glared, "Shut up."

He shrugged, "Whatever. I'm going to the mall, should be back in an hour or so," he said grabbing his leather jacket, "See ya' latta!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran down the hall and out of sight before I could utter another word.

I blinked. That was awkward. I brushed it off and buried my hands in my pocket. Finally, peace and quiet—suddenly the door bell rang. Damn it! Who the hell was that? The maids were off work today, so I had to answer it. Terrific. I ran down the stairs in a rush and opened the door. I had been expecting Mokuba, but instead it was one of my employees.

"What now?" I yelled, angrily.

"K-Kaiba sir, uh, the shipments of the new duel disks have arrived. Should we charge it to your credit card?" he asked stupidly, as he fumbled with his hat nervously.

"No shit Sherlock," I said, sarcastically.

"C-Can we have your credit card, sir?" he asked.

I grumbled and drew my hand into my pocket to get my wallet. It _wasn't _there. I _always_ kept my wallet in my _right_ pocket! Why wasn't it _there_? Where was it? I tried my other pocket. Nothing, zilch, zero. Where the bloody hell was it?

Suddenly I froze. I knew where it was. Mokuba had it—I just knew it! I knew he was planning something! Damn him! He was already at the mall with my credit card, gleefully buying something and I had an urge it was a brand new stereo system.

"K-Kaiba sir?" the employee asked, "D-Do you have your credit card?"

"Not with me, right now," I grumbled angrily, "Tell them I'll send them a check."

"O-Okay Kaiba sir!" he exclaimed and ran.

I slammed the door shut. Mokuba Kaiba was a dead man. Dead! As soon as he walks into this house, I was going to kill him! How dare he sneak off with my credit card? How dare that little juvenile delinquent steal from under my nose! Under my roof! In my own home—my own flesh and blood, stealing from me! What was the world coming to?

**XxXxXxX**

**Domino City, Japan: Kaiba Manor**

**8: 09 p.m.**

**XxXxXxX**

I rubbed my temples impatiently. Mokuba should be home any minute and I was not going to hesitate to ground him. As on queue, the front door creaked open. Perfect. The juvenile was home—finally.

Instead of Mokuba waltzing in, a man wheeling a _large_ crate did. And then another, and another. All three of them were wheeling something outstandingly large. I did not like that one bit. I soon spotted Mokuba walk in after them.

"Mokuba, who the hell are they?" I asked standing up from my seat and walking towards him.

"Mr. Kaiba sir, where should we put these?" one of the men asked.

"Upstairs. Fourth door to your left," Mokuba swiftly answered.

"Mokuba! Who the hell are they?" I yelled pointing a finger at one of the men.

"The delivery people," Mokuba said running his hand through his hair, "And you know it's rude to point, Seto."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I know you have my credit card. _Give it_," I demanded venomously.

"I have no clue what you're talking about," he lied, crossing his arms. I lunged at him, and made a grab for his coat. I knew he had it. I was one hundred and ten percent sure. He was not going to lie to me and get away with it. I do not care what he says. He is lying!

"Get of my coat!" he demanded and tugged his coat out of my grip. Something fell out of his coat, landing on the floor with a 'swap'. I looked down: My credit card. I glared up at him, "What was _my_ credit card doing in _your_ pocket?"

"I was set up!" he shouted, his eyes wide in panic.

"Mokuba…" I hissed. He was such a terrible liar.

"Okay! Okay! You got me! I took it, I admit it! There! But you broke my stereo system!" he shouted.

"You continuously put the damn volume up when I deliberately tell you to keep it down to yourself! What the hell do you expect me to do?" I shouted, picking up my card to see if it had suffered any damage—luckily it hadn't. Mokuba opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly afterwards.

"All right Kaiba sir, your stereo system is all set!" one of the men shouted. Wait a minute. Stereo system? Stereo system? He did not just say that. No. No. No! That huge thing could not be a stereo system. It's bigger than the last one!

"Mokuba you didn't…" I stated, looking at him completely shocked. He grinned sheepishly, "Say hello to _Marilyn_!"

I felt woozy at that moment and I blacked out.

I had fainted, once more. Second time in almost a year. Sad, a man of my status and class fainting. It was despicable. Mokuba wants to kill me, doesn't he? First Shelby, now Marilyn? Oh god, I was calling an inanimate object by a name. I, Seto Kaiba, have lost all common sense.

Punk has made me lose my mind.

Punkie Mokie has driven me insane.

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**- F I N -

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Author's Comments:

I hope no one was offended over me calling punk trash. I'm mildly into punk myself and I have punk friends. So I hope no offense was taken what so ever.

Anyway, how was it? If you didn't get the ending about the Marilyn part, well remember, Shelby was Mokuba's old stereo system who is now in stereo heaven. Marilyn is the new one, who's larger and louder and shall continue to torment Kaiba some more. The joy of music!

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**- P L E A S E - R E V I E W -

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**_Punkie Mokie_** copyright © **03.06.05** by **_PrincessChaos  
_****_Yu-Gi-Oh!_** copyright © **_1996 Kazuki Takahashi  
_**Copyright © **_ChaoticFox Corporation_**

This story, or any parts of it, is **_not_** allowed to be reproduced unless granted permission by me. **_PrincessChaos._**


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